


Adust

by grimsgay



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, M/M, Politics, Post-Canon, Tags and warnings to be added as relevant.., Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimsgay/pseuds/grimsgay
Summary: When the night comes, when everyone else is finally settling down for their first real night's sleep - that's when Lio becomes aware of just how empty he is. His soul doesn’t sing, his blood doesn’t burn, and his body doesn’t soar. The third night, the cold finally settles in.After that, Lio can’t seem to get warm again.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Adust

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this fic since I saw the movie, and I have big plans... Tags and warnings will be added as I go because I don't want to get too long right off the bat. I have, however, added the trans tag for now despite the lack of relevancy - this is because it is going to play a major role later, and I want to be open about that right now so transphobes can just move on...
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The first two nights aren’t so bad.

Lio and Galo are both kept busy with rescuing survivors from the rubble and ruins of Promepolis. There’s enough work that Lio doesn’t have to pause or think or feel. He can keep going, even past the point of exhaustion, even as he borders into delirium. 

Ignis looks him over and raises his brow, a small acknowledgment that Lio isn’t as walled off as he thinks. Not anymore. But he doesn’t interfere. With work to do, and with how thin their efforts will be stretched for weeks to come, Lio doubts anyone will bother stopping him.

His plan  _ had _ been to work himself into unconsciousness. Maybe then the world wouldn’t feel so cold. But it doesn’t really work out that way. 

On the third day, when the worst areas have been searched for survivors, they’re given a reprieve. ‘Take a nap,’ Ignis probably means, and Lio knows Galo would drag him into a bunk if he gave even the slightest hint of fatigue. He’s careful to keep to himself. It’s not so bad working, saving people. If he keeps moving, he doesn’t notice the gaping hole now left in his bloodstream.

The third day passes fine. Lio naps. He eats a quarter of his daily rations and gives the rest to an orphan. He tries to talk to Galo’s teammates (because really, he doesn’t feel comfortable calling them  _ his _ yet, or even using their  _ names _ ), but it’s awkward and choppy at best. He avoids Galo as he’d once avoided law enforcement - a thought that still feels surreal to consider. That he’s free.

But it’s not a thought he fixates on for long. When the night comes, when everyone else is finally settling down for their first real night's sleep - that's when Lio becomes aware of just how empty he is. His soul doesn’t sing, his blood doesn’t burn, and his body doesn’t soar. The third night, the cold finally settles in.

After that, Lio can’t seem to get warm again. 

***

Galo finds him on a rooftop the next morning, just as the sun brushes peach and rose tones onto the remains of the city. Lio almost doesn’t notice him. He doesn’t listen for footsteps, nor does he watch his back. He sits on a cement ledge, eyes fixed absently on the sunrise. 

He hadn’t slept. Ignis is going to berate him later, he’ll take a nap when he absolutely has to, and then he’ll be on with his new life - whatever this new normal even is. But he hadn’t slept. There was no point trying, not when he knew he’d never find the heat he craved. 

Watching the sunrise? It’s not the same. It’s a little warm, the soft light kissing his flesh. It’s better than nothing, but it doesn’t compare to what he’s lost. 

Galo sits beside him, his smile much too vibrant considering the state of the world. Lio thinks of what his body had felt like. Warm, too, before he lost even that. He pushes the train of thought away.

“Good morning! You’re up bright and early. Sleep well?”

‘ _ I didn’t sleep at all, idiot,’  _ is what he wants to say in response, but holds back. In place, he licks his lip, testing the elasticity of his skin there as he searches for words. “It was a rough night.” 

If Galo is concerned, he does a decent job of concealing it. But, knowing him, he probably isn’t. Lio hasn’t known Galo long, a couple of weeks at most, but it’s enough to know that Galo wears his emotions on his sleeve. Worry and concern aren’t exceptions. He’s unsure why he’s so disappointed at that train of thought.

“Yeah? Wanna talk?”

Lio sighs. No. He doesn’t, but Galo won’t let go. So he changes the topic “It’s a lot, fixing the city- possibly the world.”

“I- yeah. It is. Do you think… Do you think we can?” There’s a hopeful shimmer in Galo’s eyes that remind Lio of how different they are as people. Galo is optimistic and pure, even in the face of disaster. Lio… well. 

Galo burns bright, and Lio freezes him out. “No,” is what he says, refusing to meet Galo’s gaze.

He stands. There’s no point sticking around to see the wounded look Galo no doubt wears. Lio may not share the same sentiments, and maybe his confidence and his hope are both completely shot, but that doesn’t mean he wants to watch Galo crumble like the city around them.

“Lio?”  _ Voice cracks. So weak… _

“We have work to get done.”

Nothing more is said, and Lio leaves in search of something better to occupy his time. Galo doesn’t follow.

***

It’s three weeks before they hear from the government - something Lio  _ should  _ have anticipated, but completely forgot about. It’s exactly three weeks, and Lio will remember this because it’s the day he gets over his weird aversion to coffee and chugs three cups throughout the morning. 

He can’t remember the last time he actually drank coffee; three cups is entirely a mistake because he’s not used to it all. Galo calls the end result “heartburn,” and Lio thinks he’s heard the term before, but never knew the feeling attached to it. It’s not much like a burn at all. Lio knows what fire feels like. He knows what it means to burn and to hurt, and even though he was immune to flames for most of his living memory, he knows what it feels like when his skin blisters and swells with heat. 

This is not that feeling. It feels more like someone has stuck an iron spike into his chest, not far enough in to destroy his vital organs, but encroaching upon his aortic valve enough to change the flow of his blood. It feels like he’s been poisoned, but isolated entirely to his lungs, or maybe that he’s drowning in air. 

Lio isn't one for being melodramatic, but after his third cup of coffee, he thinks that he’d prefer an actual burn. At least then he’d have some familiarity. Galo tells him it’ll go away in an hour, maybe less. Lio decides he hates coffee.

It doesn’t go away. Lio’s chest still burns something terrible when Ignis gathers them into the sad excuse for a common room they have. Lio lounges back on a couch against Galo’s shoulder, because doing so alleviates some of the discomfort he feels - that’s what Lio says. He’s very vocal about it, though not for any particular reason, and he receives a couple of bizarre glances. Easy enough to ignore. Head down, mind sharp. That’s how to survive.

But Ignis’ speech isn’t about him. Not directly. Lio listens attentively, in case it is, but he’s pleasantly surprised for the most part. Something something, Burning Rescue is needed somewhere, something else, underfunded, need new equipment, state of emergency, etc- Lio  _ does  _ process the information. Honest. He’s paying full attention. But. It doesn’t concern him until Ignis shifts the topic to politics.

“As I’m sure you are all aware, Promepolis has no governor.” 

Lio’s eyes refocus. It’s. Logical. There’s no reason for the city to keep Kray Foresight  _ alive,  _ not after what he did, naturally he wouldn’t be governor. They’d want a new one. 

“However, we no longer have  _ any _ higher government. All who were allied or suspected of supporting the former governor have been detained- And after all the lives lost in the recent disaster, we… Well, there’s not much of a government left.” 

There’s a definitive silence then, and Ignis pauses. Lio is sure he’s not the only one refusing to breathe.

“What remains of our council got together and agreed it would be best to hold new elections as soon as possible, however, in the immediate future, we have to focus on rescue and rebuilding efforts. And in that, we need strong leaders. They’ve decided that, while Promepolis is still in a state of emergency, interim leaders will be appointed to cover important duties throughout our city-state.”

At this, Galo butts in. “That’s great, hopefully we’ll be able to give our all and support whoever’s in charge!”

The tension still doesn’t break. Ignis doesn’t say a word. Not yet. Lio knows where this is headed.

He can’t say it’s surprising. Galo has always been the city’s golden boy. A hero through and through, who’s veins overflow with hero’s blood. He’s a born leader, no matter how thick his skull can be at times. Lio doesn’t react when Ignis finally clears his throat and says, “Actually Galo, they’ve decided you will be one of those leaders.”

There’s an explosion of noise then. Equal parts astonishment and excitement. Galo stands and hugs his teammates, they pat his back and his shoulders. Lio remains frozen in time, an outlier witnessing a stranger’s memory. He has no rift to touch or to taint. He doesn’t belong here. He’s as much a black sheep as any burnish would be, and it doesn’t matter how much Galo wants him around, he’s never going to fit in. Lio  _ knows  _ this like he knows his own name. So he stands to leave.

But Ignis stops him. “Actually,” he says “they want you too.”

Lio’s blood freezes. “Excuse me?” There are so many people who are more qualified than he. Sure, he’d saved the world. Sure, he’d helped Galo. But Galo is the one the people want. He’s just the criminal. The arsonist. The leader of a terrorist organization. Oh, how much it stings to call it  _ that.  _ Lio would never wish to harm or terrorize any human life. He just wants safety and freedom for his people. But. That’s not how things always play out. Sometimes survival means playing dirty. Sometimes that leads to a spoiled reputation and even worse treatment. It’s a vicious cycle Lio wants to break, but even he doubts serving as an authority figure would help his cause. 

“You wouldn’t be alone - you’d work directly with Galo,” Ignis says, as if he can see directly into Lio’s head. Once again, Ignis silences his intrusive thoughts with minimal words. “They don’t want politicians.” 

But Lio understands exactly what he means;  _ they want  _ **_leaders_ ** _. _

They want selfless people who know how to take charge and who won’t take  _ advantage _ . Not like before.

“Understood,” Lio says simply, no further arguments.

He doesn’t give Galo a chance to respond to his sudden agreement; he’s already walked out.

His heart still burns, but this, Lio thinks, is not the coffee’s fault. It’s something worse. He just doesn’t know what yet.


End file.
